Page 43 of Nothing Heals Me Like You Do

“Do you want to go on a date with me at Mimi and Nora’s?” Sienna asked. “Also.” She took a step closer to Justine. “It is such a wonderful treat that you’re here. To say I wasn’t expecting you would be an understatement.”

“I couldn’t stay away from you.” Justine tugged at Sienna’s hand. “And Rochelle gave me one of her emo speeches, so.” She shot Sienna a grin before kissing her on the lips.

“What did Rochelle say to you?” Sienna asked when they broke from the kiss.

“You don’t want to know the things Rochelle has the audacity to say to me, babe.” She pulled her lips into a lop-sided grin.

“I might not have been to makeup yet, but, er, I’m playing Rochelle, remember? I think it would even be fair to say that Ineedto know everything she says to you.”

As if someone on the production team had overheard, a call came over the intercom, asking Sienna to go to the makeup trailer.

“We’ll talk later. Go.” Justine tapped Sienna lightly on the ass.

“Will you go with me on Saturday?” Sienna brought her lips close to Justine’s again.

“I just might.” Justine’s face was all lovey-dovey softness, accurately echoing how Sienna felt. “I can’t seem to stay away from you. In all the time I’ve lived in LA, this has never happened to me with a celebrity before.”

It was hard for Sienna to tear herself away from Justine as well, but she couldn’t be happier that she had shown up. She blew Justine a quick kiss before hurrying to makeup.

While seeing Sienna was wonderful, all the reasons Justine had for not coming to theGimme Shelterset quickly became clear to her again. Being here, witnessing her past come to life, tore her right open. Justine prided herself on the defenses she had built around her heart, around her weakest spots, but on this set, they crumbled to nothing in the space of a heartbeat.

Because there was a replica of the first shabby sign they’d put up at the Rainbow Shelter—just a sheet of paper with the words scribbled on, slipped into a plastic folder. There was the soundstage where they’d rebuilt the interior of the very first iteration of the shelter, which was just two adjoining rooms, one with secondhand army cots and scratchy blankets, and one with the barest minimum of what could constitute a bathroom. It looked like nothing, but it was so much more than nothing—and it was definitely better than a makeshift tent on the street.

The current budget of the Rainbow Shelter was humongous compared to what they’d had to start with. Justine had always strongly believed that, as time went by and the years grew into decades, they would need less funding simply because times changed and attitudes shifted—and being queer would be as normal as having blue eyes or brown hair. That had never happened—on the contrary. Most nights, the shelter, despite adding beds every year, was at full capacity. Wasn’t that the most heartbreaking of all in a time when so many young people—one out of three, according to the latest study Justine had read—identified as queer or, at the very least, not straight?

That was another reason for agreeing to this movie—for signing away her ‘life rights’. Because representation and awareness were still of vital importance. The battle Justine had fought all her life had not yet come to an end, and it surely wouldn’t in her lifetime. But at least, because of this movie, she could leave a little piece of herself in the memory of everyone who watched it.

Most emotional of all, was seeing Alexis as her younger self. She emerged onto the soundstage wearing what had passed for Justine’s business attire in the nineties—a suit Rochelle had lent her and a T-shirt that had once been white. In the scene, Justine and Rochelle had a meeting with a city councilor—one of the many men they’d had to beg for either funds or permission along the way. While Charlie Cross, the screenwriter, had done a great job of bringing some much-needed lightness to the script, and Justine knew this scene had plenty of dry wit and sharp dialogue, the general tone of the movie didn’t matter while she was standing there, reliving her past.

Because when she’d been twenty-five, Justine had barely processed what had happened to her, and her heart was still full of the pain of rejection. She had dealt with it the only way she knew: by doing something. By building something. By using what she knew from experience and turning it into something tangible, something that would make an actual difference. But standing there, looking at the determined but still-so-lost version of herself that Alexis captured so well, she also realized that ever since she’d started the shelter, she hadn’t stopped. Justine didn’t take vacations. She hardly took the weekend off. Justine’s ‘off’ mode only kicked in when she had exhausted all her energy, when she was too tired to do anything else but crash into bed.

But now, there she stood, all the emotions she had so expertly kept at bay for decades, catching up with her in the time it took to act out one single scene.

Justine tried to focus on Sienna, who was captivating and gorgeous and also made her feel all sorts of things, but Justine’s attention kept being pulled back to Alexis—to herself. To the person she was and all the despair and sadness she had pushed to the outer edges of her conscious mind, so she didn’t have to feel it anymore, and could focus on what was most important: founding the shelter.

When she looked at Alexis in the reconstructed Rainbow Shelter, on the set of this fucking movie, Justine could see, clearly for the first time ever in her life, how the shelter was built on her own personal pain. Its very foundations were made up of her bottomless anger, its walls were bricks made of her frustration, and those rickety beds were all the love she went without.

Tears streamed down her cheeks again. A tissue appeared in front of her. Justine took it and accepted Rochelle’s arm around her shoulders. No words were required. Justine was convinced that Rochelle knew exactly what was happening to her—it was why she’d talked her into coming back in the first place. No wonder Justine had resisted so much.

Because healing was so damn painful.

It was also obvious why being with Sienna was so easy, so utterly delightful, and fun. Just as Rochelle had done when Justine was twenty-five, Sienna brought a lightness to her life Justine desperately needed. Without Sienna, and all she stood for in Justine’s life—entertaining company, amazing sex, and big celebrity perks like her father’s donation—coming to the set would be completely unbearable. No matter how much healing it might inspire.

“Come here.” Sienna opened her arms to Justine.

“You’ll ruin your hair and makeup,” Justine said.

“It’s not that hard to make me look like Rochelle.” Sienna’s voice was gentle, almost a whisper. “Come,” she insisted.

Justine stepped into her embrace, and it felt so right and so comforting.

Sienna’s hand slipped into her hair and she held her tight. Justine tried not to cry, but she couldn’t stop herself. The floodgates were well and truly open.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed into Sienna’s ear.

“No one here can truly imagine what this is like for you,” Sienna whispered. “But every single person on this set respects the hell out of you, so just let it out.”

“This movie isn’t supposed to be my personal therapy,” Justine muttered.

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